


Crash and burn

by chesterfieldred



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Community: falloutkinkmeme, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Immobility, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kink Meme, M/M, Multi, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6152746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chesterfieldred/pseuds/chesterfieldred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick gets captured by raiders on what should have been a simple job. Their leader puts him through hell and it's up to SoSu Will and Hancock to save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 01

He should have waited for Will, that was his first thought when booting up again.

As if the whole incident with Vault 114 hadn't teached him that going out alone into a unclear situation was a bad idea. 

No. No, apparently he was an idiot. Ellie would have his head. If Will didn't strangle him first. But that all depended on wether he would make it out of this mess he got himself into. Again.

He groaned, or at least thought so, when he tried to move and found he couldn't, his body a uncooperative, stiff mass. There was a cold, concrete floor against his back and he could see light shining through his eyelids where the artifical skin was thin, but he couldn't even command them to open. What had those assholes done to him?

He remembered what happened and would have grimaced at the memory but found he couldn't even do that. 

A caravan leader had come to him, after arriving in Diamond City in the middle of the night. Ellie had been sleeping upstairs and Will had been out on a ... trip to Goodneighbor with Hancock. He had not accompanied them, wanting to catch up on paperwork that had piled up in his absence. The caravan leader had introduced himself as Murdock, told him that he had been attacked by raiders and robbed at gun point. It had only been four of them, but they had managed to get away with all of his caps and a very expensive, modified gun. If he could get it back?

It was an easy job, at least it sounded like that. Only four raiders. Something he could do on his own, had done successfully on his own in the past, before Will. 

When he had sniffed out their hide-out in lower Boston though, it had turned out to be not so easy as thought. There weren't four of them. There were over twenty, holing up in an abandoned warehouse.

And then he had been stupid enough to get caught. 

He hadn't spotted the look-out on the roof, not until the raider had shot at him. And missed, thankfully. Nick had tried to hightail it out of there then, being hopelessly outnumbered, but found himself already surrounded. He managed to fight off three of them and shot a fourth down, before a large hunk of a man struck him down with an iron rod to his skull. The force would have killed a human, but he was only dazed, trying to get back to his feet. 

A shadow had walked up to him. And then there had been a shock stick pressed into his side, burning, tearing electricity surging through his body and Nick had felt sparks going off inside of him before the world had collapsed to darkness.

And now here he was, contemplating on wether or not he was going to get killed by either the raiders or his friends when he made it out in one piece.

****

There were footsteps suddenly, heavy boots on concrete, drawing nearer. Dread krept up his spine. Someone knelt down beside him and for seconds there was nothing, just the quiet sound of whoever it was breathing. 

Then fingers fiddled at the side of his face, reached inside and jerked on something harshly that made pain shoot through his cheek and down his neck. His eyes flew open. The rest of his body remained inactive. 

There was a lamp right above him, the sudden light way too bright and he blinked. The rest of the room around him, as far as he could see without being able to move his head, was dark, no windows and looked like a dirty cellar. 

There was a man next to him, a large guy with a brutish face, pale, small eyes watching him intendly. He lit a cigarette, noise of his lighter loud in the silence, before looking down at him, taking a deep drag and blowing the smoke in his direction.

"You wonder why you can't move."

The mans voice was raspy, and deep, and Nick didn't like the tone in it. Not one bit.

"Disabled your motor function. You see, I broke down a shit-ton of your kind back in the day. I know my way around all those buttons and wires and cables. It's pretty easy, once you get a grip on it, and you are so broken down and torn open it was child's play to reach in and find the right connectors."

The man sounded proud of himself, dirty, smug grin on his features, and Nick wanted to wipe it off with his fist. 

"You may also wonder why you are still alive."

Nick had thought about it, he had to admit.

"Because I know you. Not personally, of course... but I heard of Diamond Citys infamous synth detective before. Nick Valentine," the man's cold eyes racked down over his body for a moment before meeting his eyes again, still smiling that unnerving, smug smile,"Had wanted to see you for myself for a long time."

The man rested the cigarette between his lips and reached out to touch his face. Nick felt ill the moment those calloused fingers slid over his artifical cheekbone, down to his jawline, over the ragged edges of his torn open skin.  
"I'm Jonson," the man introduced himself and he gripped his jaw harshly, turning his head towards him,"I think the two of us will have a lot of fun together."

****

Nick wanted to scream. His voice modulators were working in overdrive, but no sound escaped his throat save for a sick, metallic grinding. His body was convulsing, not on his own, but from the high voltage current racing through it, wrecking havoc in his systems. It hurt. So very much.

Coolant dripped from his mouth, his eyes, out of the ragged hole in his neck. Something in his throat had ruptured, flooding his oral and nasal cavity. He was sure there were a few busted connectors inside of him, too. He couldn't feel his left leg anymore.

Jonson, as it turned out, hadn't been lying when he told him he knew his way around synths. The man knew exactly what to do to bring him excruciating pain without putting him out of commission. And he was a sadistic bastard. 

He had undressed him, moving him around like a limp ragdoll. Nick had felt way too exposed under the man's gaze, had felt sick at the touch of his hands.  
Touches that had been far too harsh, far too long lingering.

Then Jonson had brought forth two industrial jumper cables, connected to a portable diagnostic chard.  
He didn't know how long it went, how long he lay here on the cold concrete. On and off, electric fire whipping through him, along wires and cables with enough force to make them spark and rip, burning him from the inside out.

The current ebbed away again when Jonson pressed the button on the card. The clamps of the jumper cables that Jonson had connected to his collarbone and through a hole in his hip to his hipbone where fizzling with smoke. Still only able to move his eyes, Nick had to force himself to look at him.

There should gave been questions in between the pain. Questions about Diamond City, it's defences, weak spots in the wall, the pattern in the change of guards. There had been none. Nick couldn't fathom what Jonson wanted from him. 

The man was kneeling at his side again, finger on the button. He was smiling. He was enjoying it. And then Nick understood. The man wasn't torturing him for information or anything. He did it simply because he liked it. That realization brought with it a first spike of fear in the synth. 

"Looking good," the man said, nodding at him with appreciation.

Jonson grunted softly when leaning forward, removing the clamps. Then he reached down into the hole in Nick's neck again. 

A painfull jerk and he could work his jaw again, gurgling on spilled coolant and oil. 

Jonson watched him non-chalantly. "Nothing to say?"

Nick spat out a blob of viscous liquid, "Bastard."

His tormentor barked a laugh. 

"Yeah, I suppose." 

He reached up and lifted something from the chard, a long, metallic device. Nick's eyes went wide when he recognized it for was. An electric sabre saw.

"Like it?" Jonson asked, raspy voice almost cheery, and he held up the saw, "Found it in a hardware store. It was broken, but I got it to work again. Even found some metal saw blades. A damn lucky find."

Nick clenched his jaw, teeth grinding.

"You could say it's a hobby of mine," Jonson continued casually, checking the saw blade, the cable that connected the device to the chard ,"Taking things apart and watching how they work, what makes them tick. And sometimes..."

He pressed a button on the side of the saw, and it buzzed to life, a shrill squeal screaming through the small room. Nick would have shrunk away instinctively, if he would have been able to move anything more than his face.  
"Sometimes I put the things back together," Jonson looked down at him, an excited spark in his pale eyes,"But only sometimes."


	2. 02

"I will personally dismantle this rusted circut-board, I swear to god!"

"Calm down, John! This is not helping," Will sighed exasperated. The vault-dweller was massaging his temple, felt a massive headache brewing on the horizon.

"I can't believe he went out alone again. Didn't he learn anything from the last time?"

"Ellie.. "

"This stupid idiot, couldn't wait for a few hours..."

"Okay, everyone, shut up!" Will's voice rose, effectively halting both Ellie and Hancock in their rantings. 

"I know you two are worried, but this is Not. Helping!" Will clutched the piece of paper between his fingers. 

He and Hancock had returned about twenty minutes ago, their friend nowhere to be found. Ellie had woken up and she, also, didn't know where Nick had gone off to. Then Will had found the note on the desk, that had informed them in Nick's messy, scribbled handwriting that the synth had left for a raider job a caravan trader called Murdock had comissioned him to, in downtown Boston. 

Alone. Again.

Will would handcuff him to the desk next time he left the synth on his own.

"Well, then what will?" Hancock asked angrily, crossing his arms over his chest,"What do we do, now?"

"First, we don't panic. Nick is a capable man, remember? Maybe everything is fine and he'll stroll in here any moment." 

Hancock snorted at that and Will cast him a dark look before continuing,"Second: We go and find him."

"Find him? Do you have any idea how big downtown Boston is? He could be anywhere by now."

"We'll talk to the guy who send him there. This ... Murdock. He should have an idea."

"And if not?"

"Then we comb through the town until we find our wayward synth."

****

Everything was pain. White and hot, red and blistering. Sparks going off, the taste of smoke and oil in his mouth. He couldn't scream anymore, had no strength left.   
Pale blue eyes above him, watching him, getting off on the pain he suffered through. Nick wished he could just fall unconcious to escape it all. But Jonson knew exactly where to cut into him, where to rip him open, to not let him off the hook easily. 

The saw was lifted away, finally, and shut down. Jonson was breathing hard over him and Nick looked up with flickering eyes. The man was manic, mustering him with what Nick could only describe as hunger. He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and saw that Jonson was cupping himself through his pants. 

"Look at you... you're a mess..." Jonson murmured, his raspy voice like sandpaper to Nick's ears. 

The man reached out with his other hand, gripping his chin and smearing overflown coolant and oil over his lips. Nick tried to close his mouth, but Jonson forced his jaw apart, thick fingers inside his mouth, thumbing his tongue. He grunted helplessly. 

Jonson let his hand wander lower, over his neck, leaving a thick trail of liquid behind. The man was panting now, pupils blown wide in what was unmistakably arousal. His touch was burning on Nick's synthetic skin. Down his neck, over his collarbone and chest and Nick closed his eyes, silently begging that this wasn't happening right now.

Jonson stood up. He heard the rustling of clothes when the man undressed, the dull sound of pants dropping to the ground. 

"This'll be good...", he heard him grunt and then he was kicked in the side,"Look at me, you fucking trash heap, or I'll nail your eyes open and bolt your head to the floor."

Nick forced himself to open his eyes, forced himself to look. He had no doubt that the man would carry through with his threads otherwise. 

Jonson stood over him, nacked from the waist down and was gripping his swollen erection, stroking himself languidly. 

The Synth wanted to look defiant. Wanted to look strong. This disgusting asshole wouldn't get to him. He growled through the liquid clogging up his throat,"You'll regret that."

Jonson chuckled,"I don't think so."

The man stepped over him and sat down on top of his hip, stroking himself through it. Nick hissed in pain when the man's weight aggravated the slashes, rips and cuts all over his body. Jonson touched his chest and stomach again, scratching over him with blunt fingernails, panting in low, harsh grunts. He ground his erection down against Nick's abdomen.

"Too bad I can't really fuck you..." he muttered, then grinned a foul grin,"Could cut you a hole, though... right between your legs..."

He moaned low in his throat, rubbing himself against Nick's stomach, obviously liking the depraved idea.

"You know why I like your kind so much?" Jonson continued,"Humans are weak. There's no fun when the object of your affection... breaks before I even could start on the good part. Believe me... I tried."

Nick clenched his teeth so hard it hurt. He desperately wanted to look away, to turn his head and look at something else than this bastard over him, this disgusting, slobbering, flushed face. He closed his eyes and Jonson grabbed into his neck, pulling roughly at the cables and wires and Nick cried out in pain, voice drowning in coolant.

"I told you to look at me!" The man roared at him. He ripped his hand free, dripping with liquid and smeared it over his swollen dick, before leaning down over him and starting to rut against his abdomen.

It was disgusting, nauseating, and Nick just wanted to disappear, detach himself from what Jonson did to his body. It hurt so much, the shoves of the man jostling his wounds further. He felt Jonson's heavy erection trapped between them, hot and hard, sliding against his skin with nasty, slick noises. Jonson grunted into his ear, foul breath hot on his face, gripping into his open neck and tearing... something, and thankfully, mercifully, everything went dark again.


	3. 03

Murdock had directed them to a complex of warehouses where they had already searched the first three and found nothing. It was dawning by now, a fine red light on the horizon, and Nick was gone for about seven hours. 

Hancock was a growling, snarling grouch next to him, nervous and jittery. 

The ghoul was afraid for their friend, he knew, and it would have been almost endearing in every other situation. But by now Will himself was sure that something happened. Something bad. The hope to search the warehouses unsuccessfully and return to Diamond City, only to have Nick sitting at his desk, alive and whole, had somehow dwindled to zero with every hour out here. 

It was instinct, drilled into him before all of this, when he had been trained for exactly this kind of thing. Secret missions, most of them in enemy territory, get hostages out, or prisoners of war, plant a bomb, sabotage or assassination. Ten years in black op's left you with fucked up thrust-issues and the dreadful capability to know exactly when shit was about to go down. 

They sneaked between two buildings, having just left the third, empty one when suddenly Will caught the sound of voices. 

He stopped Hancock with a hand on his shoulder, motioning for him to stay silent. He scanned the half broken down faces of the buildings around them and caught the flicker of fire through one high industrial window. 

Will pointed and Hancock saw it immediately, too. They picked up their pace, still as silent as shadows when they crept around the building, searching for a save entrance. There was a fire escape on the north wall, but the ladder was up. Will stopped right under it, laching his hands together and Hancock knew the drill, he stepped up onto the burly humans hands with his right foot and was catapulted upwards when Will gave him a boost. The ghoul grabbed onto the railing and pulled himself up onto the first floor, legs kicking the air. 

Will was thankful that his companion was so thin and light, compared to himself. The ghoul almost made no sound and seconds later the ladder was let down and Will climbed up. Together they continued upwards, still as silent as possible. The voices grew louder when they made it to the flat roof. There had been large windows once. The glass had broken a long time ago and the voices of whoever was in the house drifted through the now open roof.

He motioned for Hancock to stay low and they hurried along the roof until they reached an entrance that led to a small walk-way into the warehouse. Will scanned the area with well trained eyes, spotting every raider in sight within seconds, marking their position and movement in his mental lay-out of the place.

There were too many of those scumbags for his liking... 

Then they went inside, sneaking along the walk-way, staying low and in the dark as much as possible. They made it over without getting spotted and down some stairs into a corridor. Will was still thinking about the best tactic to take down so many raiders all at once when suddenly there were footsteps, moving towards their position. 

They were much too close. The old house had a fucked up acoustic.

He reacted on instinct, grabbed Hancock and flung the both of them around a corner, behind craters and old barrels, just in time. The place was small, almost too small for them and he had Hancock's back pressed against his chest in the semi-dark.

Two raiders rounded the corner, large brutes with heavy weapons. If they didn't look too closely, they hopefully wouldn't spot them.

"Where's Jon?" The first one asked while walking and the second grunted on a chuckle," What do you think? Still with his new plaything."

The first one made a face,"Don't get this weird fetish of his. It's disgusting, if you ask me."

"Eh...", the second one shrugged massive shoulders,"Don't care. As long as he pays he can fuck anything he likes. Besides, there's worse. Ghouls? Super-mutants? The synth at least still looks human... in a way."

Hancock choked in front of him, a small, shocked noise and he could feel a tremor run through the ghoul. He himself felt as if a bucket full of ice-cold water had been poured over his head.

"Bah... can't imagine putting my dick in one of those things... do they even have anything where you could put it?"

"Now you're the one who's disgusting."

Will clenched his jaw as hard as he could, closing his eyes and wishing he hadn't heard the words. God... that couldn't be true...

Hancock moved in front of him, restless, growling, and Will realized the ghoul was getting ready to attack, too riled up by what he had heard to think straight. Which would alert the rest of the raiders with them having no tactic or enough cover whatsoever to fight them off in the small corridor. They'd be dead by the minute. 

Will reacted on auto-pilot. He grabbed Hancock, pulled him against himself and encircled the ghoul with both arms, one hand closing tightly over his mouth. Hancock tried to shake him off, aggressively and Will had to use his whole strength to keep Hancock still and silent against him. Wasn't easy. The ghoul was a thightly coiled ball of pure rage.

The two guards walked away into another corridor and he let Hancock go again when he was sure they were gone. His companion was awfully quiet by now, his back ramrod-straight against him. Will himself had to breathe hard through his nose to keep from shaking with rage. Calm. They had to stay calm. Or they wouldn't save anyone.   
Will looked down at his friend, leaning towards the ghoul's ear to whisper.

"Three at the door. Four on the rail, a turret at twelve o' clock. Seven around the fire in the main hall. Another four in the barrack, sleeping, one standing guard behind it. I take out the guards, silently, and on my signal you bring down the ones around the fire with grenades. The rest as it comes. Quick and precise."

Hancock nodded tightly. He turned the smaller ghoul by his shoulders. He wasn't looking at him. His jet black eyes were wild, burning, unspoken promise of pain and blood and murder in them. He'd seen this gaze before, on fellow soldiers, on comrades in black op's, this look of hot-blooded rage and he knew damn well that this was a fast and messy ticket to die in a hail of bullets.

"John," he shook the ghoul resolutely,"John, look at me!"

Hancock looked up at him after moment, teeth clenched.   
He gripped the others shoulders hard, leaning down below the rim of his hat to met his friends eyes, willing him to understand,"Don't go in guns blazing. They are too many and your weapon is for low range combat. They'll gun you down before you get one shot in."

"I know," Hancock growled at him. The ghoul was shaking and Will mived his hand in the back of his neck, leaning their foreheads together.

"We'll find him. And kill those sons of bitches. I promise. But stay with me on this. I don't want another one of my friends getting hurt. Okay?"

Hancock closed his eyes for a moment, and when he looked back up, the rage was gone, replaced with something akin to grief. 

"Okay..."


	4. 04

Nick awoke to the sound of gunfire and explosions, muffled through layers of concrete. His whole body hurt, massive pain wrecking through him. A small, unconcious whimper escaped his lips.

"Fuck!" 

A raspy, loud voice next to him. He knew that voice, knew that he hated it, knew that he feared it, but he didn't know why. 

There was the sound of someone running, a door slamming shut. 

And then he was alone and there was a light dancing above him. He couldn't remember where he was. Or what had happened, why he couldn't move. Or why he was in so much pain.

He just knew that he wanted to go home.

****

"You little shit!" Hancock's voice was murderous, "You tell me where he is or I'll gut you right here like the dog that you are!"

"Fuck you...", the man grunted, pressing his hand to the gunshot wound in his thigh, courtesy of Will's '44. He was the last one and he had tried to run.

Will breathed hard when he came up next to them, reloading his gun, and now he recognized the man. It was one of the two guards they had hid from in the corridor.

Hancock was kneeling over him, knife pressed to his throat. There was carnage around them, especially the now destroyed fireplace where grenades had wrecked havoc. Their plan had worked, the raiders were dead, save the one in front of them. And looking at Hancock he doubted the wounded man would be much longer. 

"Naw, boy, you don't want to walk down that road. Believe me," Hancock murmured dangerously, firelight cracking over the scars, cracks and hollows in his face. The ghoul looked terrifying. 

"Where is the synth?" Will growled low in his throat. 

"Don't tell you anything, you fucking-"

"Wrong answer," Hancock snarled and punched the man in the face with the hilt of his knife. The raider's jaw broke with a sickening crack. 

"Try again."

"In... he's in the cellar," the man spat, blood trickling down his chin. Will looked behind him, to the barracks. He had seen a door there, and a terminal. 

"See? Wasn't that hard now, was it?" Hancock coed behind him, voice mocking and quiet, blood-boiling rage shimmering just under the surface.

"You should hurry," the raider barked a laugh,"Doubt there's much left. Jon's pretty thorough with his little robot whores-"

There was a tearing sound, and gurgling, when Hancock drove his knife into the man's abdomen.

Will was already on his way to the door he'd seen earlier. It was locked, the terminal secured with a password. His fingers shook on the keyboard.

It felt like hours until he heard the alleviating sound of a look opening.

Then they were through and running, down the stairs, a voice in the back of Will's mind screaming at him to be careful, too slow down because they hadn't found this Jon yet, he could still be here, waiting for them. 

He didn't give a fuck. In mid-run he cocked his gun, aiming it it front of him and he heard Hancock behind him, doing the same with his shotgun. Wherever, whoever this Jon was... he'd heard enough already to blow his head off in the blink of an eye. Or beat him to death with bare hands.

There were more doors down here, some open, some closed, and even more corridors, a real labyrinth. 

Everything was a blurr to him, room after empty room, until he wanted to scream and punch something in frustration.  
And then, finally, they found the right one. And for a brief, terrifying moment Will wished they hadn't, because he would never be able to forget the sight. 

"Nick..."

"Shit!"

Will ran forward and all but fell down on his knees next to the synth, into the puddle of opaque, whitish liquid around him. It leaked out of Nick's mouth, his nose and neck, out of so many cuts and ragged edged tears all over his body that Will didn't know where to touch first, if he could touch at all. Nick's hip was burned, as was his collarbone, charred silicone and artifical skin, and the air was heavy with the smell of melted plastic and electricity, there were lose, ripped wires from his neck, covered in oil and sparking, and Will felt a wild panic rise in his chest, because Nick looked so utterly broken and he wasn't moving and where should he even start-

"Will, godfuckingdammit!"

He looked up with wild eyes. Hancock sat on Nick's other side, eyes wide and shaking visibly, and had apparently called him a few times before, but he had not heard because the blood in his ears was pounding mercilessly.

"Snap out of it!" _Please..._

He choked, trying to force the memory away, but couldn't, because this was the same, the same feeling of helplessness and he saw Nora, killed in cold blood and he couldn't do anything, trapped in an icy coffin and Shaun-

"William!"

It worked. Somehow, it worked. He keened and then it was under control, the black void forced away, buried again. He breathed hard through his nose, looking up at his companion and nodded with clenched teeth.

"Good. Now. What the fuck do you need to repair this?" Hancock asked, voice shaking and betraying his own feelings, the ghoul was on the verge of panic himself, and he added a whispered, "Please tell me you can repair this..."

Will didn't know. He spotted a tool kit on a shelf in the corner. 

"Get me this. And every roll of duct tape you can find. And we need a welder or a soldering iron." 

****

It was crude, in the end, but it was all Will could do with what they found in the cellar. He would need a welder, a micro welder for all the ripped wires and cables. And Nick's right hand. It was missing fingers, no doubt cut off with the sabre saw they'd found. There was no way he could do this with simply a screwdriver and some glue. He had an impulse micro welder back at Sanctuary, a PUK U4-TIG, he'd found at a broken down dental laboratory and right now he would give his left hand and both of his legs if he'd had it here. 

He patched ruptured tubing with heavy duct tape, fingers slick with coolant. It was crude and in no way professional, but at least it stopped the viscous liquid from oozing out of Nick's throat. Will didn't know if it was vital, like blood with humans, didn't know how much of this stuff Nick could afford to loose... and if it was, if they had any way of replacing it. Or any damaged part of his friend.

He couldn't think of it right now, or he would slip into a full-blown panic attack again. Instead he listed all the injuries, everything that needed repairs and what tools he would need, just to distract him from the fact that he wasn't working on a turret or generator but one of his closest friends. It was a long list.

"That's it," he murmured and leaned up again,"That's all I can do."

"What now?"

Will had spoken to himself, had almost forgotten that Hancock was there. He looked up at the ghoul, who had uttered the quiet question.

"We take him to Goodneighbor. It's closer than Diamond City and there'll be better tools there, tools I need... Amari sure can help, too."

Hancock was still sitting across from him, had been for the entire time, and now he was holding Nick's left hand in both of his, looking lost and small and desperate, black eyes drifting towards Nick's face.

"Why isn't he waking up?"

Will felt a lump in his throat. He couldn't say it, didn't have the heart. He averted his eyes.

_I don't know if he ever will._


	5. 05

In hindsight, the next weeks were a blurr to Will, a hellish, fucked up mess of too many emotions to recall properly.

They had thankfully managed to get to Goodneighbor in one piece, and Nick to Dr. Amari. 

Will barely slept, wouldn't eat enough, staying on his own two feet simply out of determined stubbornness and the fear for his friend most of the time. He repaired what he could in Nick's body and at the same time knew that without new parts he wouldn't be able to undo half the damage, but he shoved that fact as far away as he could, unable to face the truth.

Hancock wasn't better off. The ghoul looked like a shadow, almost constantly by Nick's side, and he had collapsed on the third day because of sleep deprivation and worry so Will put him in one of the armchairs next to the synth's bed to let him rest. Fahrenheit managed the town, and she had been there a few times since their arrival, checking up on them, hard gaze softening when she looked over her boss and thought no one would notice.

They had also sent word to Ellie. Will had thought about the little woman, probably worrying herself to death back in Diamond City and he had instructed the men from the Neighborhood-watch to tell her specifically that she shouldn't come, that they would keep her updated.

Will didn't want her to see this.

Amari had Nick hocked up to her computers, his chest opened and the charred, sliced and ruined silicone skin cut away and she had run diagnostics from the first day they had brought the synth in, monitoring him constantly. She was the expert on the software, if you could call it that, and had explained what was going on. 

Nick was, for lack of better words, dormant. Like a computer that had shut down, abnormal system end. He was still there, Amari had told them, shown them on her computers, a small, trembling curve, blinking on the monitor. That was him, she'd said, his core programming, and she had called it 'sleeping' with no ways of waking it up externally. The damages to his internal hard drive were to severe.

Will had seen all of it.

This Jon, this sick son of a bitch, had cut into Nick's chest with that goddamn saw, dismantled the synth's internal workings with brute force and destroyed almost everything underneath. The electric burns and the spill of coolant and oil from ruptured tubings and a heavily damaged coolant pump had done the rest. 

They hadn't found the man responsible. After they had brought Nick here, after he himself and Amari had worked for two days and nights straight to fix the worst damage and stabilize Nick's condition, he and Hancock had returned to the warehouse. The raiders were still there, their corpses had begun to bloat and already there had been a heavy smell in the air. They had searched the whole place and found nothing, didn't even know if maybe one of the corpses was the one they were looking for. Nick was the only one able to identify this Jon. 

But even if the synth would have been awake and able to follow and, more importantly, would have even wanted to go back to this hellhole... Will somehow knew that the one they were searching for wouldn't be among the dead. The bastard had gotten away. He was sure of it. And it elicited a cold, burning, impotent rage in him he couldn't even begin to describe, but knew he had to force aside to be there for Nick. 

One week in, after almost constant repairs, far too little sleep and the pervasive fear of that little curve dwindling to nothing and Amari suggested that it would be better to shut Nick down for good. That it would be humaner, because the damage was so severe, because they would never be able to find all the parts they needed, because Nick was, technically speaking, in a coma without any means to wake him up and because of thousands of other reasons Will couldn't even remember. 

Hancock had exploded. Had threatened her, told her she'd regret it if she dared to go through with it and there was terror in his eyes despite his harsh words, terror and fear and the ghoul was scared to death, Will could see, but Hancock had Amari backed into a corner and she was whimpering and he had to step between them to end this.

Hancock all but fleed the moment he had calmed him down again. 

Amari watched Will with wide eyes, trembling, and made the mistake of thinking that he was on her side in this. She asked if she should begin the procedure and Will looked at her and he knew that she only meant well, that she simply couldn't see Nick suffer anymore-

He had punched the wall wordlessly, his knuckles split open and she had seen the look on his face and never brought it up again. 

He stayed by Nick's side the whole day, holding his hand and listening to the soft, almost unnoticable hum of his automated internal workings, thinking about what Amari had said, that it was hopeless to wait for a wonder. 

In the evening he'd gone after Hancock. He found him quickly, fucked up on jet and mentats and apparently anything he had gotten his hands on, in the attic of the Old State House, feverish and hallucinating. Will had carried him downstairs, the ghoul light in his arms, and Hancock was whispering into his chest, drifting between beliving that Nick had died, that Will was Nick or that they had to search for their friend because he was gone, couldn't Will see? 

It hurt to see John like this. Hurt so much to see his two closest friends like this. 

He put Hancock on one of the couches in his office to let him come down, turned to get some water when surprisingly strong fingers riddled with radiation burns grabbed him, pulled him down and Hancock kissed him, muttering Nick's name, beliving he was the synth again. Whispering how much he had missed him. How sorry he was for everything that had happened those last years, that he had vanished from Diamond City without a word, that Nick had always been his only friend there, that he had wanted to do this for a long time. 

Will choked, grabbed Hancock's wrists to stop him before pulling the ghoul in a crushing embrace and Hancock keened in his arms, both of them so very lost and scared. His eyes burned with unshed tears and it was too much, he didn't want to loose Nick, didn't want to loose another one so dear to him. 

Hancock was babbling against his neck, clinging to him in a death grip but he was clear again, the ghoul called him by the right name weakly, still high on his drug-cocktail, but clearly recognizing him now, and he turned his head and kissed him harshly.

He slept with Hancock that night, right there, and it was bruising, desperate and frantic. There was no time to stop and think about what he was doing, what they were doing. Will just knew that he needed this, needed something to hold on to and Hancock was there and alive and real and needing it as much as he did, urging him on, scratching deep red marks into his back when they both came.

Afterwards, when the ghoul had slipped into a deep, soundless sleep, he stood at one of the windows, naked and smoking, watching the moon rise between the broken down buildings of Boston, waiting for a wonder.

Silent tears rolled down his stubbled cheeks, long time coming.

And suddenly, he startled when a certain memory struck hard.

****

Will was gone for three days by now.

He hadn't told him were he was off to, just that he needed to get going, that he would return, he promised, that he had a plan and that he should watch over Nick in his absence. 

Hancock was pacing track marks into the floor before Nick's bed by now. He itched for something to do, to be useful and help, and desperate with the knowledge that he simply was no use whatsoever. He couldn't repair or build stuff like Will could, or even pretend to understand any of the techno-gibberish Amari spoke. He just knew that the little curve on that monitor was important. And that he would give anything for Nick to wake up again. 

He turned with a little growl and sat down next to the synth again, still and quiet on the bed, and he took his hand gently, smoothing his thumb over Nick's, like so often in those past few days, hoping against hope that the synth would return his grip.

Will had kissed him before leaving. A kiss on his destroyed lips and Hancock had looked up at the human dumbfounded, blinking stupidly. 

It was okay, what had happened between them. He had wanted it, needed it, the closeness and feeling safe in the others arms while everything else hurt so damn much. If he was honest with himself, he had wanted it for a long time. That it had happened now, under these fucked up circumstances, was just wrong, but he couldn't do a thing about it now. 

But Will had kissed him, sweet and warm, a strange look in his eyes he didn't dare to think about too closely.

He had thought that Will would call it a mistake, would call it taking advantage of him while he was drugged up out of his mind maybe, apologize and then never talk about it again. But now... 

He didn't know what to think. 

He looked up at Nick, over the opened chest cavity with way too much cables and wires that seemed far too complicate and delicate to him, up to the synth's face. 

Nick's eyes were closed, thankfully. He couldn't have handled it if he'd have too see those familiar eyes dark and staring up at the ceiling, lifeless and dead. Now it looked as if Nick was just sleeping. 

He reached out and caressed the synth's cheek with his other hand, gently sliding his knuckles over smooth artifical skin, wishing Nick could feel it, to know that he wasn't alone, that he was here, watching over him and waiting. 

"You're safe, Nicky," Hancock whispered, "I'm here and Will will be back soon. And then you'll wake up."

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. His chest ached. 

"You have to. Can't just leave like that, you goddamn toaster..." 

The old nickname felt still familiar on his tongue, even after so many years. He had called Nick that since he could remember, since his childhood in Diamond City, as a teenager and a young, angry adult still. Had never called him that again after everything, the familiarity between them, the affection that had always been there, shoved aside in the face of all the shit that happened in his past, his brother and that fucked up town next to Goodneighbor, and turning into what, into who he was now.

Memories flickered in front of his eyes, thousands of things he hadn't thought about for so long, had believed to be forgotten, feelings buried under regret and shame and denial.

It was so long ago. And so much had happened since. And he had been an complete and utter fool to wait until it was too late.

"I couldn't tell you-" his voice broke and he leaned back in the chair, holding onto Nick's hand and crying silently.

****

He returned on the fourth day, completely exhausted, his back in constant pain by now, carrying two heavy bags and Fahrenheit met him at the gate to tell him that he looked like shit. 

Will grunted in her general direction and she took one of the bags and helped carrying them to the Memory Den. 

Hancock was there, looking like he hadn't slept in days, as was Amari, and the ghoul shot up from his seat next to Nick when they entered.

"Will!"

He and Fahrenheit entered the room and he felt his knees buckle for a moment, strength finally waning. He clenched his teeth and walked on, unloaded his bag on an empty table and Fahrenheit did the same next to him. Then the vault-dweller turned and without hesitation pulled Hancock into a rough embrace, almost lifting the ghoul up in the air. Hancock decided to not give a fuck about the two woman in the room and clung to Will, burying his face in the man's neck, relieved to have him back. 

"How is he?" Will asked when he let Hancock go again and the ghoul shrugged his shoulders, helplessly, looking up at him with tired eyes,"The same."

"Where have you been?" Amari asked and he met here gaze. 

"Fort Hagen."

Hancock looked puzzled,"Fort ... what? Why?"

"Because about four months ago I killed institute synths there. Gen-1 and Gen-2."

"You... you went to find parts," Amari was looking at him in disbelief, then her face brightened with something close to hope,"Were you successful?"

Will opened the first bag and started to spread the contents on the table. "I hope so. Help me sort through this mess..."


	6. 06

This day and the next he and Amari were occupied with taking apart synth-components, cleaning them up as best as they could, fixing the minor damages and fitting them into Nick, hoping against hope that it would work. 

Nick was a prototype, so some components didn't set properly or had the wrong connections, but those were things Will could work his way around. Creating a completely new coolant pump from scratch, however, he could not. 

Amari warned him though. There was no way of knowing if the components he build in would work. There was a good chance that it all could go horribly wrong. But they didn't have any other choice so Will kept on working, stubborn and determined.

The second night he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, his fingers numb and his back hurting, neck stiff and shooting needles of pain down his spine when he tried to move his head. Amari's eyes were bloodshot and she swayed on her feet. Hancock had sat by their side all the time, but by now the ghoul had fallen asleep on his chair, head pillowed on his arms on the table.

"This is the last part," Amari said, exhausted,"We fit it in tomorrow, then I can program and start the boot up sequence... and hope for the best."

Will nodded and looked over towards the bed where Nick lay, so very quiet. He sighed and moved to lift Hancock up on his own two feet to get him to the matress in the corner. Fahrenheit had brought it in a few days ago, so that they had something to sleep on. The woman could be cold, hard as steel, but those she cared for could count themselves lucky. 

Hancock was like a ragdoll when he tried to lift him, unresponsive and murmuring nonsense into his armpit. He simply picked him up and carried him to the matress, lowering him down gently, before taking off his hat and putting it to the side. 

He looked down at him tiredly. Hancock looked so exhausted, even more haggard than ever, eyes sunken low in his skull. He hadn't been eating enough the last days, too, surviving mostly on cigarettes and mentats. Will stroked the ghoul's cheek gently for a moment and Hancock sighed in his sleep. 

Amari excused herself and went to her own room and she dimmed the lights on her way out to a low red glow.

Will wanted to lay down himself, his whole body ached from the last days, the stress he had been under, but he went to Nick's side instead and sat down on the bed, taking his left hand in his own. 

The worst damage had been tended to, almost new parts fitted snuggly inside Nick's still skinless chest. 

The ripped wires from his neck had been repaired, the tubings replaced. They hadn't had the time yet to fix his damaged hand, though. Will had brought two synth arms from Fort Hagen, but this damage hadn't been the top priority yet. Nick was missing his index, middle and ring finger, cut off crudely at the knuckle, the metallic chords holding them ripped in half. They also hadn't had the time yet to outfit new synthetic skin plates over his body, were the electric burns had charred and melted the silicone. They had had to remove them, to tend to the damage underneath.

Will closed his eyes. He could only imagine how much pain his friend had been in. Nick had told him once that he could feel pain, maybe not like humans could, but there where receptors inside that interpreted damage, probably programmed as a kind of self-preservation mechanism. 

An exhausted shudder wrecked through him, accompanied with the same cold-burning hate he'd felt ever since they found Nick, ripped open and lifeless, in the cellar of that damned warehouse. If he ever found the son of a bitch who did this...

Hancock moved on the matress, restless in his sleep. He looked over to him, concerned, when the ghoul made small, distressed noises. He'd had nightmares for the last few nights, probably even before when he had been gone, too. Will had asked about them, but Hancock just shrugged it off with tired, dark-rimmed eyes and he had to refrain himself from crushing the ghoul in an embrace, from promising him that everything would be okay to ease his pain, because he just didn't know.

He would give all of himself for the both of them to be well again, Will realized with a vengeance, as he carressed Nick's limp hand softly, drawing little circles on the soft silicone with his fingers. These two, who had grown to be his closest friends and comrades since he woke up in this hell of a place, broken and raw and devastated. These two, who meant even more to him than that. Both. He knew that now, a realization that was long overdue.

No. He hadn't want to realize it. Had chastised himself for it, hated himself for even thinking about it only half a year after he'd buried his wife, so he had willed the thoughts, the feelings, away violently. But now, so close to loosing one of them and the other a distraught, hurting mess he couldn't pretend, couldn't deny anymore. 

Below, the ghoul settled again, breathing evening out, and he listened to Hancock's soft sighs in the dim red glow while time ebbed away, inexorably, to the moment when they would test if all of their work had been in vain.

It had been difficult, going back to Fort Hagen. The last time he had been there with Nick and Dogmeat, to find the killer of his wife. He hadn't gone to the room where Kellogg had died. The mere thought to see the bastard again had Will on edge and there had been enough other broken synths on the floors above to scavenge for what he needed. 

It hurt, to think of it. To think of her. 

He caught himself musing about what she would have done if their positions had been switched, if he had been the one to die in that godforsaken vault. Nora had been a strong woman and he loved her still, would always. He was sure she would have made it here. 

And he prayed to whatever god still listened that she forgave him for moving on.

****

"You think it will work?"

"I have no idea," Will answered truthfully. He looked down at Hancock. The ghoul sat by Nick's side, clutching the synth's left hand in his, black eyes large.

Will sighed and smoothed his hand over the gleaming, almost new chassis of Nick's internals. It looked good, but he just couldn't say if it was enough. He was by far no expert on synth robotics. He'd done all the repairs simply by instinct and based on the knowledge he and Amari had of mechanics and the synths at Fort Hagen he had dismantled. 

Nick had been out of commission for almost three weeks by now. Amari was there and would start the boot up sequence any moment now. 

She was smoking, had been the whole day, one after the other. The woman was as nervous as they were about what would happen next.

"Okay," she announced,"Here goes nothing..."

Will closed his eyes.

That was it then.

The computers behind them started to hum.

****

He should have known. Should have been prepared. 

Nothing in this fucked up, destroyed world was easy or fair, nothing without pain and hurt and misery laughing in the faces of those who survived, those who lived on. Hope was but an illusion.

Will balled his fists so hard that his nails cut into his flesh and he couldn't look at Nick anymore, this still so lifeless and heavy form on the bed, unmoving, that looked frighteningly like a corpse now. Couldn't look at the flickering curve on the monitor, that was still so small and frail. 

He walked around the bed, and rested his hands gently on Hancock's shoulders. The ghoul was shaking, staring at Nick. 

"I'm sorry..." Amari whispered behind them and Will felt something in his chest clench painfully.

He shock his head. It wasn't her fault. 

Hancock looked up at him then, black sclerae haunted and Will couldn't say anything because his throat was constricting, because his eyes were burning and his heart breaking. With a small noise Hancock wound his arms around his middle and buried his face against his stomach, hands clenching in his shirt.

"I'll shut it down now." 

The hum of the working machines slowly faded and Amari walked up to them, "I... don't understand. It should have worked. But the sequence just... faded into nothing."

Will clenched his jaw and wound his arms around Hancock's lithe, quivering form. 

"You did all you could," he heard himself say and with sad eyes the woman started to detach the cables from Nick's chest and head. Will didn't stop her. There was no point anymore. He had failed.

****

In the end, it was Hancock who made them stay. He couldn't bear the thought of Nick's body, like a abandoned shell, lying here alone. Stay for one night. That was all the ghoul wanted.

Will knew he just couldn't say goodbye, wasn't ready yet. He himself wasn't either. 

They didn't lay down on the matress, though, but sat in the armchair next to Nick's bed and Will pulled Hancock on his lap. The ghoul was motionless, limp, save for the trembling that wouldn't stop and he wound his arms around his smaller form, pressing him close and resting his cheek on his bare head. Hancock lifted his hand to his chest, fingers splayed absentminded in the fabric and Will felt silent tears drip down on his bare forearm. 

Neither of them spoke, didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say. 

Just the ripping pain of loosing someone so dear to both their hearts.

****

He was floating. 

Binary code ruptured. 

The too bright light above him was gone, replaced with a soft red glow. He was lying down and he could move again. Why hadn't he been able to move? He couldn't remember but it seemed over now. 

He stood up slowly and feeling ... wrong. Something was wrong. He couldn't see right. Had to find... somebody. His legs almost gave way under him but he managed to walk, joints stiff and cold.

He had to get out. He had to find... 

His head hurt. His chest, everything.Thoughts a jumbled mess of zeroes and ones, memories of this too bright light and two pale, cold eyes above him. 

He whimpered, unconciously. 

Why was he alone?

He didn't want to be alone. 

Slowly, he dragged himself forward. 

****

Will awoke from a light, restless sleep he couldn't remember slipping into to the sound of soft footsteps, his nerves so wrung out that even this quiet noise jolted him into full awareness within seconds. 

He sat upright, as far as he could with Hancock still resting against his chest, eyes immediately flying to the bed next to them. 

Nick was gone.

Ice-cold shock punched him in the stomach. He jostled Hancock awake and the ghoul was up in a second when he saw what was going on, voice a panicked whisper,"Where-" 

Will grabbed his arm, heart pounding in his ears, and pulled him forward and Hancock followed immediately. 

They hurried into the corridor where the red light dimmed to an almost dark and human and ghoul stopped as if they had run into an invisible wall.

Nick stood in the dark, facing away from them.

Hancock made a soft noise in the back of his throat, a helpless keen, and Will felt his own hands tremble. Relief washed through him almost by force, god, he was awake, Nick was awake, it had worked, it just had needed some time...

Before it was replaced by dread.

The ghoul started forward but Will stopped Hancock with a hand to his chest. Nick was swaying on his feet. 

Something wasn't right.

"Nick?" he called out softly, his approach hesitant when all he wanted to do was run up to him and grab the man in his arms.

There was no reaction. Will was near enough now to hear a quiet, mechanical rasp and it sounded almost as if Nick was hyperventilating, which was impossible, because the synth didn't need to breathe. 

"Nick..." Will clenched his jaw and, preparing for the worst, rested a hand on Nick's shoulder. Still nothing. He circled him slowly, could see his face now, yellow eyes unfocused and the right one flickering, on and off. Nick looked... so very lost. His heart clenched at the sight.

"Hey... ,"he whispered and suddenly there was a reaction, a violent one. 

Nick seemed to just now notice him and his eyes went wide, pushing him away and stumbling backwards, back hitting the wall hard. There was no sound, Nick's mouth open in a silent scream. But there was fear in those yellow eyes, a terrible, devastating fear and the synth had his arms outstretched to ward him off, to protect himself but Will could see the familiarity in his eyes, it was Nick, there was no doubt about it.

"Nick, hey, it's okay..." he murmured, raising his hands non-threatingly to calm down the synth.

Nick was making small, raspy noises, shuffling along the wall. He looked ready to bolt or attack, despite trembling like crazy and his eye was still flickering.

"Calm down, Nick... It's me, Will..." he kept his voice soft,"And John is here, too. No one is going to hurt you."

The synth's eyes flew over to Hancock, who stood tense and still and wide-eyed, seemingly holding his breath.

Nick looked back at him. And suddenly there was something like recognition. His face crumpled and fell, voice small, shaking, "Will..."

All strength seemed to evaporate from his body and his legs gave way and Will and Hancock surged in to catch him. They sat him down, back propped up against the wall. The synth was still making those raspy sounds and clung to Will's shoulders, the grip of hands made out of metall bruising.

"I... I'm sorry..." Nick whispered and Will shock his head, hands smoothing over the synth's face, needing to feel him, cupping his cheeks in relief so great his chest was about to burst. 

He hushed the synth,"Shhh.. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I left..." Nick looked up at them with malfunctioning eyes,"... my fault."

"No, no, no..." Will shock his head again and Hancock reached out, too, couldn't stop himself either, gravelly voice trembling with emotion,"None of this is your fault, Nicky. Stop it."

Nick looked between the two of them, like he wanted to protest, but his voice broke on the raspy sound and something like a whine, and Will only then understood that the synth was crying without tears. And there would never be tears. No matter how much pain Nick was in. 

The synth was shaking in their arms and he pulled them both into his embrace, choking on that last, awful realization and whispered promises that everything would be okay.


	7. 07

It was Nick who didn't want to go back to the room, refusing to lay down on the bed again, despite their attempts at coaxing. They conceded finally, after they realized that the look with which Nick eyed the red lightened doorway was a look of badly concealed fear.

Will could understand. He wouldn't want to be forced to lay down on his near dead-bed, too.

They brought Nick to the Old State House, after Will had quickly made sure that everything was working inside the synth's chest as it should. He knew it was probably stupid of him, that the wisest course of action would be to wake Amari, so she could run proper diagnostics. But they'd do that tomorrow, as well as a thorough check of Nick's internals. 

The synth was numb in their arms, disorientated and could barely walk. He had one arm over Will's shoulder and Hancock was supporting his other side. Two alarmed watchmen walked up to them on the short route over the street, but Hancock shooed them away, asking the two to go and fetch some clean clothes and bring them to his office.

For now, they sat the synth down on one of the couches in Hancock's office, Will at his side and Hancock kneeling in front of him. The ghoul oozed worry and was fussing over Nick and when the watchman entered with a bundle of clothes, he jumped up to take them, advising him and his buddy to stand guard at the door for the night and that they were not to be disturbed.

"Hey..." Will took Nick's good hand in his, ducking his head to look the synth in the eyes. The flickering right one worried him. Probably short circuited. He would have to look into that. 

Nick's gaze was empty. A thousand thoughts seemed to race through his mind and Will squeezed his hand to get the synth's attention. Nick looked up at him for a moment and when his empty eyes focused on him, he smiled, a thin, false smile. Will could see the fake nature of it a mile away. Nick was hurt, and deeply, at that. 

As if his breakdown in the Memory Den hadn't been indication enough. 

Hancock returned and knelt in front of Nick again, putting the bundle of clothes next to the synth. 

"You can wear these. I hope they'll fit," the ghoul murmured apologetically and Nick nodded without looking at either of them. They hadn't thought of clothing the synth, but the extensive damage and need for repair would have made this impossible anyway. 

With a pang of guilt, Will remembered that they even forgot to collect Nick's original clothes from the warehouse. He'd seen them there, but... there had been more pressing matters at time. 

He stood up to help Nick into the clothes, carefully pulling the plain white shirt and the pair of pants over the synth's opened internals while Hancock sat on his haunches and shuffled through the piles of drug paraphernalia on the table. He finally found a pack of cigarettes and handed it to Nick when the synth sat down again, fully clothed now and looking a little bit better for the worse.

Nick managed a small smile towards the ghoul, who fished a lighter out of his coat and lit Nick's cigarette.  
The synth inhaled slowly and Will had to remind himself that this was not the time to think about how Nick could even do that. 

"Thank you," Nick said to them both in general and he rested his forehead in his free hand, closing his eyes. He sounded so tired and defeated, looked so very small, and Will and Hancock shared a concerned look.

"Don't mention it, brother," Hancock murmured and rested his hand on Nick's knee.

Nick wanted to take it. With his broken hand. 

He froze in the movement and stared at his hand, at the cut edges where his metal fingers used to be. 

"Oh, god..." he whispered, voice breaking and the synth started to tremble once more.

"Hey... hey..." Hancock took his damaged, shaking limb gently in his and the Nick rasped that metallic sound again and leaned forward, burying his face in his good hand, shoulders shaking.

Will took the burning cigarette from his grasp, snuffed it out and laid it down on the table before encircling the synth with his arms. Hancock stroked his neck, murmuring against Nick's forehead and nudging him with his cheek, "It's okay... it's going to be okay. Will can repair this. He repaired everything in you. You're going to be alright..."

Nick shock in their embrace. Will closed his eyes and unconciously started to stroke his hands over the synth's sides to calm him down again. 

"Hey, c'mon... look at me, Nicky..." Hancock whispered and he lifted the synth's head with both of his hands cupping his cheeks. He smiled a warm smile when Nick focussed on him. 

"There... that's better," and the ghoul leaned forward to press a chaste kiss on Nick's temple.

Will felt the synth tense in his arms for a moment, then he relaxed again, the shaking subsiding. The raspy sounds vanished when Nick got himself under control once more. He sat up straighter again and pulled Hancock with him. The ghoul leaned forward between Nick's spread thighs into his lap and Will rested his head on Nick's shoulder.

"You two...," Nick murmured quietly, tiredly,"I knew you'd come and find me... I had hoped for it so much..."

He lifted his good hand to encircle Will's forearm and carefully stroke with the other down Hancock's neck. 

Will tightened his grip securely,"Of course we would."

Nick leaned his cheek against him and Hancock made a sound that Will could only describe as a purr. The ghoul crawled up Nick's lap to sit down on the couch, all but snuggling into the synth's other side. 

It was warm, and secure, and Will felt the fear, the hurt and worry of the last weeks dwindle away to be replaced with a deep exhaustion. 

He grasped Hancock's hand, stroking over gnarled skin gently. Nick's internals were humming quietly when the synth powered down between them slowly, probably not even realizing the dire need for defragmentation. Hancock fell asleep on Nick's shoulder and Will listened to them both, Nick's soft humming and Hancock's slow breathing. 

It would be alright. They would be alright.

As long as they had each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and commenting and kudos! :)


End file.
